


You'll Be My Night Light

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Five Times Mack Couldn't Sleep Because of Fitz And The One Night He Didn't Mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Be My Night Light

1

It all starts because a water pipe breaks, and accident that could be pinned on any number of people, none of whom step forward to say anything, even when about half of the bedrooms on the playground ended up flooded with about two centimeters of water.

Which, in truth, isn’t much more than a hassle to clean up, and a minor inconvenience.

However, until the cleanup can happen there is one small plus side (or minus side) which is that a certain scientist’s room was one of the flooded, and that until tomorrow morning when it would be fixed he was going to be staying in Mack’s room.

“Your bed is bigger than mine,” Fitz announces after having surveyed his living space with casual curiousity, changed into pajamas, and plopped down onto one half of the bed.

“Maybe that’s because I’m _bigger_ than you.”

The little laugh that Fitz lets out should not be so charming, nor the hint of mischievous grin on his face, as he replies, “that so,” with just the right hint of innocent and innuendo.

His brain sort of short circuits for a second, because he’s most definitely thought about the scientist that way, but had never thought that verbalizing them would have been any good.

Except now- well, now Fitz is burrowing himself under Mack’s blankets and claiming the space as his own without any preempting.

“Couldn’t you have slept on one of the couches in the lab,” he asks in a joking manner,  because the thought of Fitz leaving his bed to go is most definitely not a pleasant one.

Of course, Fitz just scrunch up his face a bit and says, “no,” before proceeding to hog all of Mack’s blankets and make a cocoon out of them.

“You know, Turbo, I’m being generous letting you stay here-“

“Yes, so generous,” Fitz smarts back.

“But that doesn’t mean you get all of the blankets.”

“I need them,” he just insists, snuggling in further, and peeking out at Mack from the top of the covers, “are you getting in the bed?”

He shrugs his shoulders, technically they hadn’t talked about it, and Mack’s slept on floors before so he could if that was what would make Fitz more comfortable, but the fact remains that in him offering his room they had never actually discussed the sleeping arrangement.

“I’m fine with the floor if I can get my comforter back,” Mack just says, not wanting to push what could possibly be an issue.

Fitz lets out a huff in reply, “no, keeping it,” he insists stubbornly, “but you know your bed is pretty big- we could- could both-“

“Fit,” Mack supplies.

“Yeah, that one,” he agrees a moment later.

Mack didn’t exactly have to be told twice, “just don’t kick me in your sleep.”

“No promises.”

 

2

Fitz going on and on about their latest project while Mack is like babe just sleep

“And then I was thinking if we reverse- reverse the- uh, the,” his voice trails off after a moment, and even though Mack is half asleep he still somehow manages to brace himself for the impact of his bedfellow’s hand.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that this would be the fifth time it will have happened since Fitz had woken him up less than an hour before.

“Polarity,” Mack offers, which is clearly the right answer because a second later Fitz goes back to talking about their latest experiment with the same enthusiasm as before.

Mack’s eyes trail up to the clock that is sitting on the bed side table, the red numbers illuminate the room reminding him that _yes it is two in the morning_ and _yes Fitz is still awake_.

“Hey Turbo,” Mack tries, having made sure to wait till there was a lull in the conversation and not cut Fitz off.

Fitz makes some sort of non-committal noise of acknowledgement, which he is going to take as his sign to speak.

“Do you think that this could wait till the morning? Not that I’m not super excited to talk about our project, I am,” he insists, because he can see the worried look already on the other guy’s face and he hates the thought that he put that look there, “but I’m really tired and would enjoy this conversation so much more in six to seven hours, over a cup of coffee.”

“Oh,” Fitz says, and it’s a disappointed _oh_ , that much is clear, “I guess I should go back- uh, back, to my- my-“

“Your room,” Mack offers, before he shakes his head, “you know you can stay here if you want.”

It’s dark in the room, the only light coming from the clock that constantly reminds him of the time, but he’s pretty sure he sees the hint of a blush on the other man’s cheeks (but then again, maybe that’s just the clock.)

“No funny business though,” Mack tells him just in case, and he doesn’t miss the tiny sigh of relief from the figure next to him, “it’s just late, you know? And a long way back to your room, so I thought you might want…”

He doesn’t have to say more than that, because a second later Fitz is burying himself under the blankets just like he had done last time, though this time he lays flat on his back staring up at the ceiling.

Mack almost thinks that that’s going to be the end of it, and turns on his side slightly to try and find his way back to sleep, but a moment later he hears a soft sigh and a bit of shuffling and when he opens his eyes to look at Fitz, the scientist is still staring up at the roof lost in thought.

He lets out a sigh of his own before asking, “mind still going a million miles a minute?”

Fitz’s nod is small enough that it doesn’t jostle the bed in the slightest, but Mack still manages to catch it.

The silence stretches between them a little bit longer, before Mack finds, against his better judgment, him asking, “wouldn’t reversing the polarity mess up the neuron flow?”

Fitz just snickers, “you know Doctor Who isn’t based on any actual science, right?”

“That so?”

And maybe he doesn’t get any sleep that night, but Fitz seems to relax as he talks about the science of time travel and British TV shows, which makes the lack of sleep completely worth it.

 

3

“Holy shit, man, what was that?”

Probably not the most eloquent thing to say, but now that they’re officially sleeping together (both in that way and in _that_ way), it seems like he should be able to get away with a little exclamations.

Especially when they involve Fitz’s literal icebox toes pressing up against his legs, and Mack isn’t exaggerating about that he’s been in iceboxes before, he’s been skiing in Canada before, and nothing compares to the cold of Fitz’s toes.

“I’m cold,” Fitz just mumbles which is by far the understatement of the century, before wedging his toes between Mack’s legs in order to suck the warmth from him like a leech.

“No, no you don’t,” he wiggles away, but not too far away, just far enough that the toes of doom can’t reach him.

“Mack,” is the whine he gets in reply.

A whine which is only slightly endearing.

Especially since giving into the whine means giving into the feet from Antarctica.

“Don’t you have socks,” Mack asks, because reasonable people have socks, and he’s pretty sure the last dozen times Fitz had slept in his bed he was wearing socks.

His response is a shaking head that butts against Mack’s shoulder.

“You don’t?”

“Well, after we- the shower- and then I couldn’t because they- they,” and Mack knew where he was doing with that without him having to finish the sentence.

“You’re over here so often you should just bring some of your clothes over,” he finds himself saying, and those freezing toes curl up against his calves, which is probably a good sign.

“Next time,” Fitz promises.

“I’m holding you to that Turbo,” he informs him before, pushing up from the bed.

“What are you-“

“Getting you socks,” Mack finishes for him, “because at this point it’s that or frost bite.”

Fitz’s laughter is far too endearing, it isn’t even fair, “my feet aren’t that cold!”

“Says you,” he replies, before tossing a pair of socks at Fitz, and watching as the scientist fumbles in his attempt to catch them.

“There’s no way these are going to fit me!”

 

4

“What are you doing,” he asks, already worried about what the answer will be.

Especially now that Fitz has turned the flashlight app on his phone on and is shining it around the room like there could be something hiding in the corners.

(Maybe watching that weird horror tv show with Skye the other night was a bad idea, Mack really was never going to look at clowns the same way again.)

“Looking for a pen,” Fitz just answers instead, the light of his phone shining over at Mack for a moment when he answers the question.

“What do you need a pen for,” Mack asks, twisting a bit to stare at the clock, “at one in the morning.”

“Notes,” he says, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world.

And at this point Mack is used to that sort of thing, the little way Fitz just always assumes Mack knows what he means, and sure most the time he does, but most of the time he’s not woken in the middle of the night to his boyfriend rummaging through his desk in search of a pen.

“On what,” Mack prompts again.

“Things,” Fitz replies, clearly struggling with verbalizing those things because his next sigh his frustrated and when the light from his phone pans around again Mack can see that his face matches his sigh, “important things that I don’t want to forget- so I need- I need to write them down otherwise- but I can’t find a pen and I-“

“Talk to me.”

“What?”

“Screw the pen,” he continues, because really it’s too early for Mack to try and remember where he keeps his office supplies, “tell me what you’re thinking of these things, plans or designs-“

“Designs,” Fitz agrees.

“Yeah, talk to me, Turbo, and I’ll remember them for you.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky swear,” Mack replies childishly holding out his pinky, which Fitz moves a second later to lace with his.

“I’m holding you to that.”

Mack may not have got any sleep that night, but it was worth seeing the frustration dissipate from Fitz’s features, especially when the next morning he was able to remember all of that information for the extremely grateful engineer.

Fitz’s thankful kissing did a wonderful job getting hid of sleep deprivation.

 

5

Some nights Mack swears that Fitz isn’t just obsessed with monkeys, he actually is one.

Especially when after nearly a minute of fidgeting, the scientist sits up, gives the cutest glare that Mack has ever seen, before he tries to climb (actually _climb_ with limbs flailing about and some sort of steady determination) over Mack and plop down on the other side of the bed.

“Turbo,” he says, in what he hopes is a skeptical tone, but really is just his tired voice because they’ve both had a long day and he really just wants to sleep.

Fitz just shushes him.

“I was reading this- this uh-“

“Book? Journal? Article-“

“Article,” Fitz nods his head slightly, though Mack can only guess that’s what he’s doing because of the soft motion against his back, before continuing, “about the psychology of relationships and sleep patterns and,“ he makes a frustrated noise, and Mack is ready to start trying to help him fill the gaps in his mind, but Fitz eventually continues on, “the big spoon is the protector, usually.”

“Or the larger person,” Mack points out.

As far as their sleeping arrangements have gone, it has usually just been them trying to find some way to make a full sized bed a comfortable fit for two people.

It had worked out well enough so far because when Fitz slept he was like a koala (or an octopus or some other clingy animal) and wormed his way in Mack’s space.

“Yeah, well, I just-“ he huffs a little bit, “I’m a hero too.”

“I know you are,” Mack says in all seriousness, “though that doesn’t mean you have to be the big spoon.”

“Just accept it,” Fitz insists, before curling up behind Mack and doing his best _big spoon_ impression.

It’s a bit weird, but after twenty minutes he gets used to it and finds sleep a bit easier. When Fitz insists upon the position for the next week, all Mack does is raise an eyebrow before complying, though on the seventh day he may have just ended up grabbing his boyfriend around the waiting and tugging him into the bed with him before he could object or try his climbing act again.

“Mack!”

“Shh, it’s my turn tonight.”

 

+1

It’s been a long day.

One that left him wishing he could just spend the evening lying down. 

Of course, when he had mentioned that originally he had meant asleep.

 Though he couldn’t say that he minded the current situation.

It was hard to _mind_ much of anything when there was somebody on their knees before him, proving that that mouth can do far more than just smart off and keep Mack up to all hours of the night.

“God, damn, how the hell did you even, actually never mind, god, Fitz,” he groans, doing his best to keep his hips from snapping upwards like they very much want to, and pushing the imagine out of his mind regarding how Fitz could have come to be this experienced at this sort of thing.

He had always had a sort of innocent virginal look to him, and while Mack was very much aware that Fitz was _not_ a virgin, it didn’t mean that he stopped being surprised when the other guy proved to have yet another trick up his sleeve.

Fitz is clearly enjoying the fact that he has made Mack into his mess, if the little hum that escapes from the lips against his cock is anything to go by.

“If you keep- keep going like that, I’m not, not,” and for once he’s the one struggling with words and Fitz is the one who knows how to fill in the blanks.

He pulls back just for one moment to prove that, looking up at Mack and licking his licks in an almost sinful way, “that’s sort of the plan,” he remarks before going back to finish what he started.

And finish it, is exactly what he does.

Its spectacular and mind-blowing, and Mack can’t help but ask, “how did I get so lucky,” as he pulls Fitz up to his level.

“You still tired,” Fitz asks as he curls in against Mack’s side.

And he just smiles before admitting, “yeah.”

“Oh, okay-“

“But I think I have it in me to return the favor.”

 


End file.
